What it takes to be a strong
person, I never knew. And to tell the truth, I always believed that it takes
nothing, and even if does, why should I
care.
But like always, wrong I was. And
now I know, it takes everything; everything
in the process of becoming strong and hard. Or maybe, you become strong just
like that, for everything that you ever had goes away, what reason then are you
left with to be soft and tender?
And if you think that becoming
strong and hard are good things, you sure are mistaken –since you haven’t
experienced the pain of it. But even after all these lessons that I’ve learned
all this way, it doesn’t matter. I’m a hopeless person, I know, I’d fall again
–for the same person. All over again
for the same person, who is
responsible for all these wounds and dents, or to be more precise, for all
these lessons; but I least care..
You know it is never easy to hate that person whom every part of yours
has loved madly.
So now where I stand, as what I stand, I’m still not-strong. I’m still the same, despite all the lessons
boldly carved over my heart. –I don’t
care. I don’t care.
I still ask the time, to take me
back to the way where I lost myself. Doesn’t matter if I lost myself; at least I found love. At least, I experienced love,
even if for the shortest while. I want to live it all over again; all over,
with the pain. I want it to be
bitterer, more miserable. Because the more painful, the more lasting; and the
more lasting it would be, the more real would it feel.
I know I’ve hopelessly lost it,
well then that’s a good sign, because sanity is the last thing I would ever
desire. There’s no way now, for me to live
again; you don’t think breathing means living, or do you?
Sense was something missing in me
since always, and it still is not found; but I’m sensible enough to know, that
whatever gone is not coming back. Guess that’s okay anyway, I’m holding on to
the engraved memories and experiences. As long as I live, they’re going nowhere
away.
I know this is life and not a
movie where you succeed in killing yourself. Eating, talking, smiling and even
laughing –yes I am. But the essence is no more. It’s the smile which doesn’t
reaches the eyes, it’s the food which doesn’t provide nutrition, it’s the laugh
with doesn’t touches the heart; it’s the surviving, and not the living.
I’m not a pessimist, but neither
am I going to preach any wisdom or hope; pity, if you think it could be of any
use for brutally shaken people. Perfection is what a shaken seeks, and
perfection is what he never gets. Very few are aware about how negatively does
absolutism repels the shaken. –And those few are the shaken themselves.
Surely I say, it’s something now
you’re destined to live with; because time happens to heal every wound, but
fails in altering love.
